


blood on the bathroom tiles

by meshtams



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshtams/pseuds/meshtams
Summary: fic told from morty's pov about self harm, graphic, present tense
Kudos: 38





	blood on the bathroom tiles

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SELF HARM

Shit.  
That’s honestly the only thing I can say right now. Shit.  
I was just trying to take a nice fucking shower, but the razors were right there and I couldn’t stop thinking, and I don’t know. I really fucked up this time, I think I can see fat, and 3 of the cuts are really bulging.  
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?! I guess I could tell Rick, he’d be able to help, but if I tell Rick then he’ll know how pathetic I am. He already knows how worthless and stupid I am, but if he knew about this……. He might not even let me go on adventures with him anymore!  
I’m feeling really woozy now, and there is so much blood….

Wait…  
I think there’s a first aid kit under the sink.  
I leave the shower running and get myself out. I’m dripping blood on the floor, but I can clean that later, and honestly right now, that’s the least of my problems. I’m starting to think that I’m probably going to die here. I’m probably going to die of blood-loss, in my stupid family’s stupid bathroom, alone and naked and covered in scars and cuts like the useless loser I am.  
It seems to take forever to reach the sink, but when I do, I sink to my knees to root through the cupboard. The first aid kit is right at the back of the cupboard, which means I get blood all over everything in there, but thank god we have one in here at least. When I inevitably kill myself, I at least want it to be by choice, and not just because I’m too much of an idiot to not fuck my arms up just because I can’t stop thinking about things that aren’t even that bad compared to what other people go through.  
The first aid kit has a pack of butterfly bandages, which seem like a good call. I would just sew my arms up myself. I’ve done it before, but my head is spinning so bad I don’t think I could even get the dental floss into a needle. I try to force the gaping slices on my arms together with the bandages, but I don’t know if I do it right.  
Good enough, I think.  
I use gauze and bandages to wrap my arm, and thank god that the only people smart enough to notice that the first aid supplies are missing either don’t care, or are always too drunk to notice.  
I get right to cleaning up the mess I’ve made, and I feel so faint that I almost topple over and crack my head on the tiles a few times. Once I’m sure I’ve gotten all the blood from around the bathroom, I clean myself off as best I can without getting my bandages wet, and finally turn off the shower. I pull on my boxers, then my long-sleeve and sweatpants. The long-sleeve is huge on me; it’s only an xl but I’m still waiting on a growth spurt, and I don’t eat much, so I’m basically a size xs. I’m glad for how big it is now, because the baggy sleeves help obscure the bulky bandages I wrapped around my arm. 

“Buuurp, M-Morty! Hurry u-up, you piece of shit, I need to take a leak!”  
“C-coming Rick!” I unlocked the bathroom door with my stupid, injured arm, and I flinch at the pressure of pushing back the latch.  
“Finally, you-you take so l-long in URP there, you’re as bad as Summer.” Rick reaches out and grabs my arm, to swing me out of his way so he can go to the bathroom. The touch is light, but I flinch so bad that I almost actually jump away. “Morty?” If I didn’t know better, I would almost say Rick looks….. concerned.  
“W-what’s up Rick?” I shuffle my feet anxiously, avoiding meeting my grandpas eyes.  
“Well, why don’t you tell me? Why did you jump a mile when I touched your arm?”  
I really don’t know how to respond to that, I didn’t think to come up with a cover because I didn’t know he’d touch my arm, and I’m terrible at coming up with lies on the spot. “U-uhhhmmm…” I can’t meet Rick’s eyes at all. He grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me into the bathroom before locking the door behind us, and in almost the same movement he pushes my sleeve up, revealing the gauze, which is already stained with blood. Sometimes I forget how fast he can move when he wants to.  
“Morty- you idiot. What the fuck have you done to yourself?” Rick’s words are harsh, but his tone is gentle, so I chance a glance up at him. His eyes look watery, but that can’t be right. We both know that the only reason he gives any semblance of a shit about me is so that I can keep cloaking him. He goes and gets the first aid kit, along with the unflavoured dental floss.  
He walks back over to me and picks me up. He’s a surprisingly strong man, even though he’s a scrawny looking 73 year old, and he sits me on the side of the sink and begins to unwind the gauze. Removing the bandaging we can both see the butterfly bandages which I clearly didn’t attach correctly, because they’re coming loose. Rick leaves them for a moment as he threads the needle and cleans the blood from my forearm, and then removes them gently and begins to sew. Either I’m in shock, or I’ve given myself nerve damage, because I can’t feel the stitches at all.  
Rick doesn’t look up at me until the cuts are stitched tightly and wrapped up with fresh bandages, and when he finally does I feel my heart wrench. Rick’s eyes, usually so cold, are damp, tears rolling lightly down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.  
“I’m sorry, Morty. I, urp, should have known. Some of these scars are so old, god, I should have noticed. I’m the smartest man in the universe, I should have noticed that my own fucking grandson was hurting.”  
“Oh, jeez, Rick. I- I didn’t want you to find out.”  
“I know, I know, you piece of- uh, shit. Morty, I hope you know that I love you. You’re a good kid, Morty. So, if you want to do this again, come see me instead. Or, if you, urp, do it, come and let me help you. I know how this goes, and god knows I don’t want you to end up like me.”  
Now I’m crying too, my head in the crook of Rick’s neck. My arm is starting to burn, so I think I was just in shock, and the pain is making me cry even more. Once we stop crying and Rick pulls back, and removes his lab coat. He pushes up his shirt sleeves and I can see knots of scars up and down his arms, and that sets me off again.  
“M-Morty, I promise you, you’re gonna-gonna be okay. I’m here. Grandpas here.”


End file.
